


A Birds Eye View

by FireAwayy



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Attempted Rape, Circus, Clint is a BAMF, F/M, Minor Character Death, OFC is cool I promise, Violence, some non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireAwayy/pseuds/FireAwayy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint always wanted to shoot a bow, but a foster kid doesn't have access to that kind of knowledge. So when his brother suggests they run away and join a circus it seems like the perfect solution. But what Clint didn't count on was finding someone he would sacrifice everything for. What happens when Clint is forced to choose between his family and the one person in the world he would die for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Birds Eye View

**Author's Note:**

> So this was the first fanfiction I've ever written! I'm pleased by how it turned out. Clint is probably my favorite Avenger: he's sassy and follows his heart. For the record I completely ship Phlint...but because it is a ship so close to my heart I couldn't write it and destroy the perfectness. So OFC you get. 
> 
> MockingBird is a real Marvel character from the Hawkeye comics. She's a pretty cool chick. My MockingBird, however, has absolutely nothing to do with her but the name. 
> 
> I would love some feedback as this is my first fic and first posting on Ao3. 
> 
> COULSON LIVES!!

Clint Barton had never allowed himself to suffer. Suffering was weakness and he had always been taught that weakness was wrong. Even after his parents had been killed in that car crash, he still had his older brother Barney to get him through. When his parents faces faded from memory and the kids at the foster homes beat him up or laughed at him, he still had Barney and his inner strength.

Despite his young age, he had always been interested in history. Ever since the first time his elementary teacher told him about Genghis Kahn and how he conquered all of Mongolia with a simple bow and arrow, Clint knew he wanted to shoot.

But a foster kid had no money and no way to learn anything like that, so he contented himself to read quietly in the corner. He wasn't a fast reader, or a particularly good one but he was dedicated and didn't quit. Even if it took him weeks, he would always finish a book and absorb its information. Barney said it was stupid, he was probably right, but Clint liked knowing things other people didn't.

Clint was 13 when he entered his sixth foster home. Barney always made sure he was treated right at his foster homes and Barney always made sure Clint was never alone. Clint needed Barney, even if he didn't like that he stole from the foster parents or lied about the other children. Those things didn't matter because Barney was his brother.

Barney was the only thing he had.

Barney was safe.

They found happiness in their sixth foster home. Clint made friends and even Barney was less sour than usual. So when Barney stumbled into his room in the middle of the night and shook him awake, Clint barely registered.

"We gotta go, Clint." Barney hissed.

"'Wha?" Clint mumbled, dragging a fist across his eyes to wake him up.

"I heard them talkin', their gonna split us up. Send me away from here and we'll never see each other again! You want that?" he whispered urgently.

Clint sat up, panicked now. "No!" he whispered urgently.

Barney stood up and walked to the window. "Then we gotta go right now. I know someone in Texas who can get us work at a circus, it'll be great." He was talking in a rush, his thick mop of brown hair uncombed and flung in every direction. Clint stood and slipped off his pajamas and pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. He slipped his feet into a pair of ratty combat boots and looked around the room. "I don't have a bag packed." He said softly.

Barney shook his head. "We don't need it." He answered, reaching behind him and pulling a gun out of the waistband of his jeans.

Clint blinked at the solid piece of metal in his brother's hands. "Barney…where did you get that gun?"

Barney shook his head. "Not important, Clint. But I've got it now, and I'm gonna learn how to shoot it. We'll be great at circus life, you've always been like a monkey." He answered, swinging an arm around his little brother's neck and pulling him close, ruffling his hair.

"Now go." He said softly, opening the window and sliding down the drainage pipe. It took him fifteen minutes to get down, it only took Clint two. But where Clint was small and agile, Barney was big and strong. It had always been that way.

Once they reached the ground they were running and Clint felt light and free. He was tearing down the road, his boot laces slapping the pavement with Barney breathing heavily behind him. For the first time in years he could picture his parent's faces and voices, remember the way they looked at him when he climbed the big tree in their back yard or the disapproving smile on his mother's face when Barney stole a pen from the department store. It all came back in a huge rush as he dashed down the road, and his lips parted and he let out a whoop of joy. Barney's answering call was just as jubilant.

It took two weeks to get to Texas, and a majority of that was walking and hitchhiking. Two days saw them on a Greyhound bus, and that was nice. Clint actually liked travelling. He saw so many things and people, places he couldn't imagine and people with the most fascinating stories. Barney told him to shut up on more than one occasion, but Clint couldn't. He wanted to see the world.

When they arrived at the circus, Clint couldn't believe his eyes. Of course he'd been to a circus before but he'd never been lucky enough to see the back side, to see the reality that was circus life. He stood there awkwardly, watching the big top billow in the breeze and the sounds of animals he had only read about carried to him.

Barney had disappeared into an office and was speaking with a man who was laughing and patting Barney on the shoulder a lot. He was tall and thin as a whip and there was a distinct bulge on his hip where a holster sat. He was tan with jet black hair that hung to his shoulders. Clint thought he could be handsome but he was terrifying. Everything about him was terrifying from the glint of his eyes to the ram-rod straightness of his shoulders.

Barney emerged from the office, the air conditioning blowing out and cooling the slick sheen of sweat on Clint's face. The man had his hand on Barney's shoulder and they were standing side by side.

"Clint!" Barney said. His lips spread in a wide grin. "This is Trick Shot! He's the number one act here and he's agreed to hire us."

Trick Shot stepped forward and slid two fingers on Clint's chin, lifting his face and turning it side to side to look him over. "Strong lad." He said softly. "I can see the resemblance between you two." He said, his voice like a razor blade sliding across skin: painful but aware.

The man had calluses along his hands, they were hard and steady on Clint's face. "You look like a talented young man." He answered looking down at Clint, meeting his grey eyes.

"Father!" a young girl leapt from the office, her arms wrapping around Trick Shot tightly. The man who had previously looked like a hard, sharp, razor turned with a brilliant grin and hugged the young girl.

"Ah, please dear meet our newest recruits." He turned her with a hand over her shoulder as he gestured to the two boys. "Clint and Barney." Last names did not matter in the circus: last names were irrelevant and unwanted.

The girl smiled. She was maybe a year younger than Clint and had light brown hair that hung to her mid back in soft curls a purple feather braided into her hair. Her bangs were a little long and framed her tan face. She was tall and strong looking with muscles that were evident from her strapless sun dress. She was barefoot and had little birds painted on her toe nails.

"Boys this is my daughter Millie." He introduced her and she smiled so brightly that Clint felt compelled to smile back just as bright.

"She has been performing since she was a toddler, she'll show you where you'll be sleeping. I will see you later." He bent down and kissed her on the cheek and slipped back into the cool office.

"C'mon." she said with a bright smile still on her face. She took both their hands in hers and dragged them along behind her. "We stay in the train. There are cars for the performers, the bosses, and the crew. That's you guys." She told them easily, moving between the crowds of people.

Clint saw the strangest people he'd ever seen there. A woman who weighed five hundred pounds, a man who only weighed ninety, and a young man who could slide five knives down his throat. Millie introduced them all as they walked by.

The train they lived in was so long Clint couldn't see the front or the back, and couldn't even begin to count all the cars that were in use. She led them to a bright blue car with faded lettering. She finally released their hands and hopped up into the car with practiced ease. All along the walls were bunks, one top and one bottom with a small shelf and a trunk at the base of each. The car was only half full, but she led them to two beds at the back.

"Tadah!" she said with a flourish that looked natural and yet beautiful and graceful.

When the boys just stared at her and the beds, with no clothing or anything else to set on the shelves she jumped a little, her smile finally faltering. "I'll tell dad you need some clothes. It's too hot for those sweatshirts." She wrinkled her nose at them, gesturing their dirty faces and sweat stained clothes. "But I'll leave you to it. There's no show today, and tomorrow we leave first thing in the morning." She walked back toward the door of the car and jumped down. "I'll see you around." She called back with a small wave of her hand.

Barney flopped onto the lower bunk, snuggling in and watched as Clint lithely climbed up to the top.

"She was…incredible." Barney said from under Clint.

Clint nodded but knew Barney couldn't see him. He didn't want to talk about girls with Barney, especially when Barney had a tendency to be a horrible brute to them. Clint had liked Millie. She smiled a lot, which reminded him of his mother, and she was so friendly and didn't seem to want anything from them.

Clint and Barney had been working for the circus for two months when Trick Shot announced that he was taking on an apprentice, and a new act for the circus. The new act would work with Millie and do a lot of acrobatic and tumbling, as well as learning how to never miss a target.

There would be no auditions, and no way to train. Barney wanted it. He wanted to be the new apprentice and talked of it every night as the train rumbled down the tracks and they both drifted off to sleep. He hated the menial work and wanted more recognition.

But Clint didn't care. He was happy, really happy. He had many friends who he worked around and joked with. Millie had become the closest thing to him since Barney, closer in a lot of ways. Clint discovered she had lost her mom in a trapeze accident and that her father lost his temper and would use his fists on Millie. On those nights she would wander into Clint's bunk and curl up next to him, snuffling against his shirt until she fell asleep. Clint never did anything then, he was too scared to touch her, but she never asked for more.

Trick Shot was very strict with everyone. No swearing, no drinking to excess, and definitely no failures. Millie had an entirely different set of rules. She was not allowed to cut her hair, or skip practice, or talk back to her father in any way. Even after he hit her she had to hug him and kiss him goodnight. But Millie never complained.

One afternoon when Barney and Clint were helping to set up the big top, taking turns with a sledge hammer to slam the thick metal stakes into the ground Trick Shot approached. He was smiling easily and the four guns he always kept on his person were easily hidden. Trick Shot liked guns and Millie favored throwing knives. She was deadly with them, but she could also throw them beautifully with elaborate twists and flourishes. The crowd always loved her.

"Clint," Trick Shot said sharply and waved him over. Clint dropped his hammer and wiped his forehead with his hand, approaching Trick Shot quietly with his head down.

"I've decided to take you on as my apprentice. Drop the hammer, clean yourself up and meet me in my office in an hour." He turned on his heel and left. Flabbergasted, when Clint turned around Barney was glaring at him with such hate. He picked up his own hammer and stalked off before Clint could say a word.

That evening Clint sat atop the train looking out over the circus. He found his little spot—Millie insisted on calling it his nest—two day after they arrived. But he was different now-different eyes looked down on the camp today.

Because today he had shot a bow for the first time, his dream thrust into his hands by Trick Shot and told to shoot at a target ten feet away. To everyone's surprise he had hit the target, not dead center but closer than he thought he would. It just made sense in his mind. He could see the arrows trajectory and where it would hit and how hard it needed to hit. It all made so much sense to him. The bow was effortless in his hands, the muscles pulling easily-even though it had been easy at the time, his muscles dragged now and his hands laid in his lap uselessly.

"Hey Hawkeye." Millie said, plopping down next to him and crossing her legs. Her shoulder brushed his and he could smell her familiar scent of lemon and the baby powder she used to keep her hands dry for the trapeze and when she threw her knives. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid and she was wearing a tank top and shorts, obviously just having come back from practicing as Clint just had.

After Clint had told her about how he saw trajectory and knew just where to throw things, almost as if he could see an imaginary line in the air, she started calling him Hawkeye. Secretly, Clint loved it, and teased her by calling her Mockingbird in light of her painted nails and the purple feather in her hair. And her witty tongue that stung like a whip.

"Everything hurts." He mumbled.

She laughed viciously, flexing her bicep to tease him that she was not sore. "It'll get better. You're already really incredible at it." She reached out and plucked the bow from his lap, pulling the string only halfway. "I could never even come close to hitting the target. Father was most displeased when I couldn't master it." The way she said 'father' made Clint believe that he had chosen to hit her for her failings.

He shrugged a little at her compliment.

"I'm serious Clint." She said, shoving his sore shoulder and he winced. "You're really good. Dad was really proud, he wants us to work on a routine tomorrow." She told him, handing the bow back to him. He attempted to pick it up but his muscles protested.

"Too sore to crawl down?" she asked.

After a moment he nodded. Millie laughed and shoved Clint down onto his back and curled up next to him, laying her head on her hands as a pillow.

"Clint?"

"Hmm?"

Millie sighed. "Don't freak out or anything but…you're my best friend. Promise you won't leave?"

Clint grunted and slid his hand down to hers, entwining their fingers. "I promise."

.::.

"God you're slow today." Millie taunted as she ducked out from Clint's uppercut.

Clint managed to flip his middle finger up at her before deflecting her roundhouse kick to his head. Clint dropped to the mat and swung his leg out under and swept her legs out from under her. She landed with a whump and rolled away from him, lightly leaping back to her feet. He didn't wait for her to recover and was back at her, sending a knee to her stomach and his elbow to her shoulder.

Millie back flipped out of his reach, rolling and placing her hands on the mat, leaping onto his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his neck. She threw herself to the ground, bringing him with her. He swore as they fell in a tangle of limbs.

Millie landed on top of him, her knees on his shoulders and her head tossed back in a laugh.

Clint was shirtless, wearing only a pair of track pants and Millie was in a sports bra and running shorts. To an outsider it would look like a risqué position, but not to them. This was an everyday thing to them.

With both of them half naked their matching feather tattoos were visible. Millie had gotten hers on her right hip while Clint got his on his right pectoral. It had been a dumb thing, done a year ago when they were 15 and finally got permission to go into the city. They decided it was a good idea, as well as the Jack Daniel's bottle they had polished off. When morning came around, it decidedly hadn't been a good idea.

"What's your deal today?" Millie asked, relaxing her weight on his shoulders a little and looking down at him. Her hair had come loose from her braid and hung around her face and shoulders. Since her father never let her cut it it was now down to her waist.

Clint by contrast had shaved his hair, Trick Shot's rule. He wasn't overly tall, but still taller than Millie which Clint was thankful for, he would never live it down if he wasn't. The long training sessions with Trick Shot made his body hard and muscled, and he knew girls watched him when he walked through the crowds. Millie often told him which one was watching him the closest and made lame jokes about it.

Clint attempted to shrug under her. "'m fine."

Millie rolled her eyes and kneed his shoulder kind of hard. He grunted and tried to shove her off. They wiggled for a moment before Clint pulled out his final weapon and began to tickle under her rips. She squealed and fell off of him, attempting to crawl away. She sat up and pushed some hair from her face.

She studied him for a moment while he pretended to take a swig of water. "Did Barney get you drunk last night?" she asked suspiciously.

Clint shrugged.

"You little shit!" she said, standing up and shoving his shoulder. "You promised you wouldn't do anything like that again." She lowered her voice. "If dad found out he'd…well he wouldn't be happy." She said softly, reaching out her hand ghosting over the bruise on his rib cage where Trick Shot had punched him two days ago for laughing while he took a shot.

"It's no big deal. We had a couple beers with those girls that were hanging around yesterday."

Millie's eyes flashed and he could tell she was pissed. "You're an idiot." She said in a huff, grabbing her water bottle and stomping out of the car they used for training. She slipped out of the car and climbed to the top, walking along the roof to get to her car.

.::.

Millie could feel the rage bubbling in her stomach. How could Clint be so stupid? If Trick Shot had found out he would have hit him, hit him much harder than he had the other day. She shoved some hair from her eyes angrily and found her car, crawling down and sliding through the door.

She shared her father's train car. One side had a walled off room where her father slept and one corner had some curtains drawn around it where Millie slept. The curtains only went up two years ago when her father decided she needed some more privacy now that she was older. She threw the water bottle at the wall, hitting the spot she had been aiming at without even trying. Yanking the curtain back she slipped inside her room and glanced up at her mirror. It was cracked in two places from the constant bumping and shifting of the train.

Along the edges of the mirror were the few photos she had. One was her mother and father together, another was a baby picture of her, the most recent one was of Clint and her. He was holding his bow and she was holding up her favorite knife. He had his arm tossed around her shoulder and they were making faces at the camera.

Millie had never had a friend like Clint. Every time her father punished him, or he missed the target she would feel his pain. Even when he moped for days she went out of her way to make him feel better. She even let him win in their training sessions.

She sighed and flopped down on her bed. Barney was an asshole. He was going to get Clint hurt, or mess up his life and future. Not to mention Barney always leered at her in the worst ways, licking his lips and staring at her ass. Millie had never been flirted with, or considered attractive. She was far too muscular and didn't have enough simpering female in her to be successfully vulnerable enough in front of guys. The only person in the world who knew how to comfort her was Clint. He was solid and just there.

A knock sounded against the metal train car. She looked up, a spark of hope that maybe Clint had followed her and come to apologize. She stepped out of the curtain and her stomach bottomed out.

"Saw you storming around the roof, you looked kind of pissed. You okay?" Barney asked with his voice full of fake concern. He leaned against the door frame, blocking any escape. She didn't like being boxed in. It made her itch and she moved closer to the small window that sat in the center of the car. Her fists balled up at her sides.

"I'm fine." She said, repeating Clint's words only fifteen minutes previously.

Barney pushed off the side of the door and walked over to her, his faded sneakers causing squelching sounds as he approached her. She shrunk from him and looked away as he entered her personal space. "I just wanna make sure you're okay. Maybe I can make you feel better?" he asked, one arm rising above her shoulder to lock her in.

"Barney, the only thing bothering me right now is you. Get out." She told him with a small snarl.

Something flashed across Barney's face and his hand shot out and grabbed her throat. Millie gargled in surprise, hands coming up to his wrists.

"You're such a little whore, Millie. Walking around in your bra and those tight shorts." He shoved a knee between her legs and she squirmed away from him, trying to breathe around his thick fingers. "You ain't ever even looked at me. Always shakin' your hips for Clint." He spat his brother's name out.

"'s not like that." Millie whimpered through his fingers.

Barney barked out a laugh and brought his free hand to her breast, fondling it a bit before sliding down her belly and moving to slide under her shorts. She gasped and brought her hands down on his elbow, removing his hands from her bruised throat. He backed away a bit and she sent a hard kick to his abdomen. He stumbled back and she grabbed the knife strapped to her thigh, twisting it in her fingers and advancing toward Barney. The slime turned and ran from the car, her knife following and landing at his feet.

Barney's retreat was halted by Trick Shot's tall form. Barney was doubled over, breathing heavily and trying to make excuses.

Trick Shot was many things, but he was not stupid. He studied the situation: the bruises forming on Millie's neck, her shorts that were pulled a little too low and her eyes wild.

"Millie." Trick Shot said fiercely.

"I'm sorry father but Barney attacked me!" she pointed at him angrily. "He…he…" she stumbled over her words a little.

Trick Shot approached her and lifted her face towards his. "So you decided to try and kill him?" he asked softly, but with a deadly under tone.

Millie licked her lips and didn't respond.

A hand came crashing against her face, open palmed. It was so hard that Millie fell to her knees. A foot crashed into her face and then again. She curled in a ball and her tears mixed with the blood streaming from her nose and cut lip.

"You do not," Trick Shot said with whispered vehemence. "attack my employees. You do not use the skills I gave you unless I give permission. Without me you are useless and you would do well to remember that." He said with his eyes glinting and hard. He patted her sore cheek and stood, reaching out to grab Barney's shoulder and lead him from the car.

Millie continued to sob, her hands wrapping around her knees.

After twenty minutes and her blood stopped flowing from her nose she pushed herself up. She grabbed an old t-shirt and slid it over her head and the grabbed an old rag that was under her bed. There was a bucket of clean water outside and she used it to clean her face up. She could see the bruised on her neck already forming, and one on her cheek and under her eye. The blood was gone but her nose was still bright red and swollen.

She wanted to go to Clint, to curl up in his bed and just feel his steady presence. But she couldn't do that. Her father was clearly angry, and she didn't want to get Clint in trouble. Trick Shot hadn't yet found out about her late night visits to Clint and she knew he would kill them both if he did. He clearly favored Barney.

Millie was alone.

She picked herself up and walked to the animal pens. She followed a familiar path and walked into Lady G's pen. Lady G was a miniature horse with splotches of brown and white. She was sweet and never rejected a hug from Millie. After Clint, Millie felt safest with Lady G.

Millie dropped onto the hay in the corner of the pen and Lady G walked over to her, snuffling her nose in her lap and letting Millie braid her forelock through the tears that sprang to her eyes.

.::.

Clint had been looking for Millie everywhere. After she stormed out he wanted to be angry with her. She didn't control him. But she was right, and it only took a minute or so for Clint to realize just how wrong he had been.

He checked the stables and the wash car-he even checked Trick Shot's office. When he wandered to his own car and pulled on a shirt Barney walked in. He was doubled over a bit and walking with a hitch. Clint frowned.

"Are you okay?"

Barney grunted and shot Clint a dirty look. "Fine, homo." He said angrily shoving Clint a little and flopping onto his bunk.

Clint slid some jeans on and rubbed his hand through the stubble on his head.

"Hey have you seen Millie?" he asked as an afterthought, slipping on his boots.

Barney scowled and kicked at the train wall. "Yeah I guess."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "You guess?"

Barney rolled over to hide the look on his face. "Trick Shot was wailing on her pretty hard. Guess the bitch pissed him off." He glazed over the truth.

"What?" Clint asked turning to look at Barney. "And you didn't stop him? God, Barney." He grabbed his jacket and ran out of the car, ducking through the opening of the car.

Panic surged through him. Trick Shot had gotten increasingly violent as they had gotten older. Clint or Millie could normally deflect the blows from the other but if Clint hadn't been there Millie could be really hurt. He jogged to her car and saw blood on the floor. He turned and ran through the camp. If she wasn't in her car, or Clint's bed, she was with Lady G.

Skidding into the pen area he could see her back turned to him, knees pressed to her chest and the sniffling audible from where he was standing. "Millie!" he called out, leaping the low pen railing and patting Lady G's nose before falling to his knees in front of her. His fingers came to her chin and he lifted her face. He swore when he took in the discolored bruises along her face.

"What happened?" he asked, taking a seat next to her and sliding an arm around her shoulder. She resisted for a second but cave in and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Forget it." She snuffled.

"Are you an idiot? He almost broke your nose this time, you're gonna tell me that nothing set him off?"

"I…" she took a deep shuddering breath. "Barney cornered me. He…he." She couldn't seem to get the words out. Clint had stopped breathing when he heard his brother's name.

"What did he do, Millie?"

She sat up and looked at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying but also fearful. She yanked her collar down and his breath hitched in his chest when he saw the bruised finger marks. "He grabbed me and then he…hand down my shorts." She said the last part really fast and bowed her head, looking away from Clint.

Clint ground his teeth so hard he thought he might break his jaw. He felt anger surge through him and he pulled Millie close to him, hugging her tighter than was strictly necessary. "I'll kill him."

She shook her head against his chest. "No. I…I beat him up and that's when…" she stopped but Clint didn't need her to say anything else.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Not your fault."

She snuggled into him and he held her there, waiting for her breathing to even out to indicate she had fallen asleep. He was stroking her hair and found that as comforting as it was for her it was doubly so for him. She thought that crawling into his bed was a nuisance to him, but he loved having her there. He liked when he had to spit her hair out his mouth or when her fingers slid between his and held on tightly.

It was cold and uncomfortable in Lady G's pen. They were in Colorado this month, and it wasn't winter yet but it was getting there.

Clint was trying to think of everything but the bruises on Millie's face, everything but the fact that his brother had just tried to rape his best friend. He just tried to rape the girl they had known for three years.

Clint wanted to kill him.

He imagined painful ways to slice an arrow through his knees and draw out the inevitable death.

What was he thinking? This was Barney! His older brother! Clint's only family, the only person Clint had for so long. Was he really going to choose Millie over his own brother?

The answer hit him hard.

He would.

.::.

Clint woke up stiff, a crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up in Lady G's pen. Millie was still curled up in his lap, her fingers wrapped in his and her hair loose and all over his shoulder and chest.

"Millie, it's almost Dawn." Clint said softly. If Trick Shot found out she hadn't slept in her room, or that she'd spent the night with Clint he'd be furious.

She groaned and stirred against him, her sleepy eyes opened and she looked up at him. There was a dark circle under her right eye and along her cheek. Her entire neck was a dark purple color and her nose was a bit swollen.

Clint gently stood and pulled her up with him, brushing her hair from her face and pulling a piece of hay off her shirt. "Your dad can't know that you didn't sleep in your bed."

She nodded numbly. Clint could tell her face hurt, her whole body probably hurt. She took his hand in hers and he gently led her to the train. After her father lost his temper Millie was like as different person. She was soft and needy, something Clint didn't mind. He liked the tough side of Millie too.

When they got the train car they could hear Trick Shot snoring softly. Millie wrapped her arms around Clint and snuffle once, muttering something about being sorry and thank you before disappearing into the car and sliding behind her bedroom curtain.

.::.

Later that afternoon it was like nothing happened. Trick Shot drilled Millie and Clint for two hours. Millie worked harder than she has ever worked before. Her blades slamming up to the hilt dead center of the target, and Clint's arrows were splitting each other open he had such accuracy.

"Before you two go off to get ready for the show tonight I have something for you." He answered, slipping to his office and returning with a small cardboard box. "New costumes." He announced, tossing the dark purple spandex at them. On the front of each was a feather. They would be skin tight, as the last ones were, and would slide down to their ankles and wrists. Millie's had a soft skirt that didn't do much of anything except distinguish her as a girl.

Millie rolled her eyes and disappeared to get ready, the costume slung over her shoulder.

Clint wandered back to his train car. He hadn't spoken to his brother yet, and never wanted to again. When he had arrived back this morning he was gone, and when he got back to change for the show he was gone too. Clint didn't want to live above his brother anymore and after a split second of indecision he gathered up his few articles of clothing, several pictures and knick knacks he had picked up and moved them to another, smaller car behind the one he had shared with his brother. It was mostly used for storage but had three bunks. Clint took the uppermost and stored his stuff.

It was the first time in his life that he'd separated himself from his brother, and it felt right rather than horrifically empty. Millie wouldn't have to worry about running into Barney now-they could hang out without that threat.

Clint slid into his new costume, looking down at himself. It didn't feel any different than his old one, except that it was nicer and actually fit him. He made his way to the big top, keeping his head down so he wouldn't see Barney.

He stepped into the small tent beside the big top where the performers waited to enter. Millie was already there, speaking with one of the light managers. Her hair was down and she had straightened it. It hung in a bronze sheet down her back and Clint had never been quite so fascinated with its thickness, and it looked so soft.

He called her name and she turned and smiled at him.

Clint had seen her in spandex a thousand times, seen her performance makeup smudged along her eyes. But when he looked at her today his throat constricted.

The new costume hugged her curves beautifully, accentuating her breasts and hips and the angles of her collarbones. Her eyes were dark and her lips were painted red and when she saw him, her smile deepened like the day when they'd first met.

Clint's heart slammed into his chest and something woke up inside him and he realized that Millie was more than his best friend, and more than anything he had ever considered her. She was Millie.

She was his.

"Hey," she said a little breathless, standing close.

"Hi." He mumbled, suddenly feeling very different around her.

"You look good, stud." She said with a laugh, elbowing him before walking towards the mirror to check her makeup. As she walked away Clint noticed she didn't have any panty lines under the skin tight spandex. Something foreign stirred deep inside him and he gasped a little.

"C'mon birdies, you're up!" Clint snapped to attention and followed Millie out to the big top. He tried to perform to his best, and after a while he fell into the routine and forgot about the way Millie's soft form felt under his hands as they whirled through the air.

When they were finished they were breathless and covered in sweat. He took Millie's hand and they went running barefoot from the big top, laughing and shoving each other playfully.

They ended up on Clint's bunk sharing a basket of fries. They were still in their costumes but Millie stole Clint's sweatshirt and slid it over her shoulders. Clint liked the way it looked on her, liked feeling possessive.

Clint hadn't bothered to explain why he'd moved bunks. Millie would understand and wouldn't have to ask. They had their backs to the train car, knees brushing and Clint could smell that faint lemon scent that seemed to cling to Millie. Instead of being something familiar it turned into something intoxicating.

While Clint contemplated the way Millie's hair looked as it slid over her shoulders, she slid a finger covered in ketchup across his cheek, dabbing a single dot between his eyes. He stared at her, shocked at what she done. Her eyes were bright and she grinned back at him.

She stuck her finger in the ketchup again. "Just need a mustache." She declared, swiping her finger across his upper lip before sliding her finger into her mouth and sucking it clean.

Clint was about to say something about her nefarious ketchup drawing skills when he saw what she'd done. Something changed in his body and she could see it. They sat staring at each other, the air crackling between them with tension. The train lurched forward, the two teenagers still watching each other as it picked up speed and sped off toward Wisconsin, the circus' next destination.

No words were spoken, but Clint suddenly knew it was okay. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Millie's. She stiffened for a moment before closing her eyes and leaning into Clint, her hands sliding around his neck and thumbs sliding along his jaw line. Her response shocked him and for a moment he couldn't do anything, but then his brain clicked and he realized she was kissing him back and his hands were suddenly running through her soft hair, the strands parting for his fingers and feeling a thousand times softer than he thought it would.

A soft groan escaped his lips and then she was on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips and her body arched over his her long hair framing their faces.

Neither one of them had kissed anyone before, but their inexperience was negligible compared to the passion they both felt. When Clint's tongue experimentally slid across Millie's lower lip, she opened up to him and he was inside her and there were emotions he'd never felt before slamming into him.

"Gotta…stop…" Clint murmured against her lips, but his hands slid to her hips and held her tighter.

"Don't wanna." She mumbled back, her eyes still closed and hot breath sliding from her lips.

Clint chuckled a little. "Won't be able to…contain myself if we don't." he answered, a hot blush sliding up on his face as he felt the unmistakable pull in his abdomen.

She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes bright and filled with something Clint had never seen before. "Who says I want you to?" she asked, her voice low and lusty and something snapped in Clint.

Before he knew what he was doing he had pushed her onto her back and was kissing her again, lying against her and feeling every curve of her body and the tautness of her muscles. He fumbled with the sweatshirt wanting to rip it off her so he could be closer to her. Somehow she had unzipped his costume and pulled it down over his shoulders, sliding it to his hips. Her hands found their way to his chest, exploring as if she had never seen his chest before.

Clint swore as his fingers fumbled with the zipper on her costume. She laughed gently and took his hands in hers, kissing his palms before reaching behind her and unzipping the top part of the costume. Clint's hands followed hers and the zipper came down and he was almost ready to rip it off with his teeth but he paused.

"Are…are you sure?"

She looked up at him and he saw no hesitation in her eyes. "Yeah I…I want you to be my first." She blushed a little and he bent and placed a soft slow kiss on her lips.

"I want you to be my only." He mumbled against her soft skin. Her eyes lit up and her hands found his. Gingerly he slid the straps of her costume down, until there was nothing left to pull down and he was looking at her, all of her and his heart stopped. He'd seen her mostly naked more times than he could count. He'd wrestled with her with their bare skin slapping against each other, but something was different this time. It was like he was seeing forbidden bits of her. He wanted to be the only one to see that part of her.

She blushed and wriggled under his scrutiny and he placed a soft kiss on her belly button, slowly moving forward until he found her lips again. His hands slid around her waist and held her as close as possible and he knew he would never let her go.

Clint had no idea how long anything had lasted, only that when everything was finished he felt like an entirely new person and everything felt right. They had fallen asleep, Millie's naked body pressed to his under the worn woolen blanket and her hair spread out behind her. She was so beautiful, Clint couldn't understand why had hadn't felt this way before.

"Clint?" her voice was soft and a little sleepy.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't know…that I felt this way about you. I mean…I knew I loved you I just thought I loved you as a friend. It wasn't until you kissed me that I realized that I wanted to…" she blushed again and buried her face into his arm.

He laughed and kissed her forehead, holding her tighter. "When I saw you bleeding and hurt, it was like someone had ripped me open. I wanted…I wanted to kill Barney and your father." He snorted a little, trying to suppress the rage. "Every time you sleep next to me I don't dream, did you know that? I just sleep."

Millie's arms tightened around him and she was quiet for a long moment. Clint might have thought she had fallen asleep if it weren't for the fluttering of eyelashes against his chest.

"We can't tell anyone. My father…he'll kill us both."

Clint nodded, stroking her hair. His fingers found the bright purple feather she had braided into her hair, the same one she had been wearing since she was eleven years old. "Maybe eventually…when we're older he'll understand."

She was shaking her head violently as she pushed herself up and looked at him, her eyes flashing. "No. Trick Shot—my father—can never know about this. He's…well he's made some promises that I won't let him keep." She muttered, dropping her forehead to his chest and sprawling on top of him.

"What promises?" Clint asked, hand sliding along her back and holding onto her hips.

Millie mumbled something into his chest. Clint tapped her lower back with a patient finger, letting her know he wasn't giving in.

She sat up, sighing and leaning her chin over his heart as she examined his face. "Barney wanted to leave a year ago. He found a job out in Utah, illegal of course, but it would make him a lot of money. Dad didn't want him to go so he promised him-" her breath shuddered out of her chest and she closed her eyes. "promised him that when I turned 18 we would be married." She shook her head and clung to Clint. She was afraid Clint would run away from her now-push her away because of this promise. Barney and Clint were so close—Clint would never want to impose of Barney's happiness.

Clint's body went slack for a moment before tightening around her almost painfully. "Over my fucking dead body." He murmured against her head.

Millie looked up at him with hopeful eyes and Clint had to laugh. "You think that after finally getting you here, naked might I add, with me that I'm gonna let anyone else touch you? Especially not my asshole of a brother."

She laid her head against his shoulder and snuggled in a little closer, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. They both fell into a dreamless sleep. Clint didn't dream of the ripping metal and screeching tires that haunted his dreams or the older boys kicking him in the ribs and calling him names. None of that mattered when Millie was in his arms.

.::.

Concealing their relationship turned out to be easier than they anticipated. They already spent almost every waking moment together and between training, shows, and just hanging out nothing really changed-except for Millie sneaking out every night to be with Clint.

It wasn't always physical with them and they didn't make love every night. Most of the time they just laid next to each other and talked with their fingers and legs entwined.

It was during this late night talks that Clint found out about Millie's mother, how she had come into Millie's room and kissed her and told her that her father never let anything go and she would never be free. Millie's mother tossed herself from the big top that night while Millie watched.

Clint told Millie that the kids at the foster homes used to make fun of him and that one foster parent had even attempted to seduce Clint when he was twelve, shortly before they left to join the circus. Millie told him she wanted to slip a knife between that man's ribs and Clint smiled, knowing full well that she was at least half serious and completely capable.

Three months passed in bliss. Clint and Millie were completely professional during the day light hours. Clint had even manages, at Millie's insistence, to start talking to Barney again. Both boys were hurt but they wanted to be brothers again. But Clint could never forgive the way Barney leered at Millie, or that afternoon when he'd attacked her.

But things had been patched over. Clint could still hit dead center on a moving target more times than Millie could, but she was still better at hand to hand combat and always managed to have him gasping for air on the mat.

"You know," Clint told her with his cheek pressed to the blue training mat. "you could try being nicer to me." He told her, shoving her off and calling a truce.

Millie laughed and nudged his hip with her bare foot before turning to the targets painted on the wall. She picked up a bigger throwing blade and began tossing them, scooting back and doing more complicated throws as she went. Clint just watched her, his eyes glued to the moving muscles in her arms and back, the way the feather tattoo shifted along her hip and how she licked her lower lip before each throw.

Even if she hadn't been beautiful and fit, he would still be obsessed with her. He knew that without a shadow of a doubt. Even when she was all knees and elbows and had more dirt on her face than skin, he was infatuated with her. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't constantly thinking of her.

"Stop being creepy." She told him, but a sweet smile graced her face as she flopped down in front of him. He looked around and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Millie lightly punched him for being so risky but she didn't seem to mind. She glanced down at Clint's watch and stood up quickly, sliding on her t-shirt and pulling her shorts up a bit so her father would not see the tattoo.

"I've got to meet Sandy." She said as she walked to the target and yanked out her blades, sliding them to their various hiding places along her body.

"Why?" he asked. Clint knew that Sandy had been a good friend to Millie since they were toddlers. The two girls were separated by ten years and a thousand differences, but they bonded over mutual loneliness. Sandy was one of the exotic dancers that danced in the small secret tents in the back of the circus, the one act that is not openly advertised but still had a packed house every time.

"Jealous?" she teased. She stopped in front of him on her way out and kissed his forehead gently.

Millie never answered him as she stepped from the train car.

.::.

Clint was lying on top of Millie, his chin resting on her belly button while he dragged the permanent market along her skin.

"Clint that tickles, what are you doing?" she demanded but with a gently look in her eye.

He grunted with a smirk. "You'll see."

She arched a brow. "You suck at surprises."

He giggled a little in a very unmanly fashion. "I didn't hear you complaining an hour ago."

Millie flicked his head. "That's because you mauled me the second I got here and I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

"Same thing."

He went back to concentrating on what he was drawing and left Millie wriggling with impatience. After another few moments he revealed his drawing.

Clint had drawn a little cartoon bow and arrow and written 'Property of Clint' underneath, just on her right hip and beside her feather.

"Hmm…aren't you being bold? Who said I was your property?" she teased, though she really liked it.

Clint kissed her belly button.

"Guess my hip's getting a little crowded, huh?"

He nuzzled down into her and prepared to fall asleep when Millie cleared her throat.

"There's something I need to tell you Clint, and it's really kind of scary important."

Guardedly he sat up, looking into her eyes.

"After we started having sex I told Sandy about us. She would never tell my father and I needed advice." She bit her lower lip and her cheeks were flushed a little, she looked terrified.

"Millie?" Clint asked, waking up a bit more now.

"Things have…changed in me and…I just didn't know what they meant and I can't go to a doctor so I asked Sandy and…" she closed her mouth and looked away, grinding her teeth in frustration before turning back to Clint and meeting his eyes.

"Clint, please don't hate me. Please." She said in a big rush while pushing her hair from her eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed. What in God's name was she talking about?

"Clint, I think I might be pregnant."

Millie visibly winced as the words slipped from her as her bottom lip slid between her teeth. She brought her arms up and hugged herself, her eyes glassy like she might cry but she wouldn't. She only cried for really scary things.

Clint felt like he had been punched in the gut. Every emotion he had ever felt was currently using his organs as soccer practice. Long moments ticked by but Clint couldn't speak without knowing what to say.

He loved Millie. But he had no idea what to do for a kid or anything else. He still wasn't sure how women got pregnant, which is probably why he was currently staring at her with deer-in-the-headlights look.

But he loved Millie and she loved him. And amongst all those feelings was happiness. Joy was definitely the strongest feeling, and while terror was coming in close second, he actually found himself excited.

"Millie I…"

She shook her head. "I mean I don't really know for sure but Sandy told me the symptoms and it's not like we've been using protection or anything and it's just…I didn't mean to…"

"Millie! Millie! Calm down, please." He pulled himself into a sitting position and pulled her close to his chest, hugging her tight. "1. I could never, ever, ever, ever in a billion years hate you. 2. I'm not mad not even remotely."

Millie looked up at him, her face unreadable.

"We can figure this out. I'm not saying it's going to be easy and…well it'll be anything but easy. But I love you and that's all that matters."

Her bottom lip trembled and she fell against him. "We won't be able to keep this secret." She admitted softly.

"No, I expect we can't." he sighed. "But we have a little while to figure out what we're going to do. I mean…I know you're father isn't going to be easy but he'll come around?"

They both knew he wouldn't.

They sat in silence, body's resting against each other while their minds swirled.

"Millie, I'm going to be a dad." Clint said his voice a little in awe.

She laughed and kissed his jaw. "Clint Barton you are going to have a nest with me and a little Hawk flapping around."

Clint's smile broadened at the thought.

.::.

The crowd whooped and hollered as Millie leapt from Clint's hands to the platform below. She brandished two intricate looking blades, swirling them between her fingers and letting them fly from her fingers. Both blades landed dead center, followed moments after by four arrows slamming within a centimeter of her blades. More cheers followed and Millie's face brightened as she bowed.

She had one more flip to do, a front flip where she threw two blades in mid-air. She had performed it a hundred times before, but something was different this time around. Clint could see it as she bunched her muscles and flipped her body end over end. The blades flew out but only one hit the target. The other decorative blade went flying past.

Millie landed and attempted a showman's smile. The crowd clapped anyway, still impressed.

Trick Shot's voice boomed out. "Give a big hand to Hawk Eye and Mockingbird!" he continued on with pleasantries and other such nonsense while the two performers made their way back to the changing room.

Millie was flustered and upset. That was obvious.

"Millie?" Clint asked softly. They were far from alone and he couldn't pull her to him like he wanted.

"Yeah Clint, I'll see you later. I'm going to go change." She mumbled grabbing a soft towel and rubbing the show makeup off her face. Clint watched her leave and walk back to her train car with her head bowed.

.::.

Millie shut down the thoughts that swirled through her head as she slid her costume off and a pair of boxers on. She sat there staring at her reflection as she tried to keep the thoughts of failure and depression attacked her.

But it wasn't just those feelings.

Millie was afraid. She didn't want Clint to know just how afraid she was. He would do something Clint-like and try to keep her father's rage in check. But he would only get himself hurt. Millie would never let Clint get hurt on account of her. She was the one who failed-she was the one who deserved the punishment. If Clint tried to deflect her father's anger Trick Shot would know something had changed between them.

His hard boots clunked on the floor as he slammed the thick metal door behind him.

"You care to explain what happened?" he asked with barely contained rage.

Millie pulled a shirt over her head before turning to face him, crossing her arms.

"Father, I'm sorry-"

Suddenly he was on her, his hand cracking across her face. Again and again and again: he hit her until her eyes watered and she could feel the blood draining down her face. At some point she ended up crouching and he was kicking her legs and hips.

Then he stopped.

Millie chanced a look upward.

Trick Shot was staring down at her, his eyes wide and his face ashen.

Millie's aching eyes looked down and she could see what he saw. In the midst of her beating her shirt had slid up and her tattoo was visible. That wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the permanent writing still on her skin from last night.

"Father it-"

His hands ripped her shirt from her body, leaving her in her sports bra and boxers. He pulled her closer and read the slightly smudged writing.

"What in God's name is this?" he demanded, voice shaking.

Millie couldn't answer.

"Clint Barton?" he spat out his name. "He marked you?"

His hand cracked out again. "Explain this!"

Millie cowered at his feet, her hands hovering protectively. "I love him Father." She said softly.

"You think you get to choose?" he said with a harsh laugh. "You're lives have both become forfeit. You disobeyed me. I gave you everything and you do this to me?" he was shaking, spittle flying as he roared out the words.

Millie backed up against the cart. "Please…I…I'm pregnant." She mumbled, hoping that the knowledge of her pregnancy would calm him.

It didn't.

He kicked her again, harder than the last time and grabbed her hair as he lifted her face close to his. "Hear me now daughter of mine. You will put this past you, this will never have happened. I have big plans for us and they don't involve your 'feelings'." He gestured to her hip. "There is a bullet in my gun with that boy's name on it. Hawk Eye is dead."

He was gone, turned on his heel and was storming out of the train.

Millie pushed herself up through the pain. She could barely see through the blood on her face and she was almost certain she had a broken rib. But she had to get to Clint. Somehow she made it out to the fresh air and she was limping to his car, head bowed and ignoring those trying to get her attention. All she could think of was Clint and getting to him.

His car door was open, waiting for her no doubt and when she pulled herself into the car she collapsed on her knees.

Clint was lying on his bunk when he saw her. He was down on the ground, landing lightly beside her and pulling her face up.

"Trick Shot?" he mumbled through his rage.

She nodded. Clint stood and pulled the door closed. "Millie I should have known he would…"

Millie shook her head reaching up to grab his wrists and pulled him to her level. "Clint you have to go right now. He knows about us: he saw my tattoo and what you wrote. He's going to kill you Clint." She began sobbing, the pain in her body and the knowledge that Clint was on her father's kill list stabbed into her heart.

"Please don't argue Clint, please. You have to go."

Clint cradled her face. "I'll only leave if you come with me. I'm not leaving you here with that maniac. I can't live without you, don't ask me to."

She shook her head. "Please for once in you damn life Clint don't argue!" she begged him, her forehead falling to his shoulder as she sobbed for the first time in front of Clint. She was genuinely scared.

"You think I would leave you? Christ Millie, he probably just broke your nose and maybe something else! I'm not leaving you here, he'll kill you."

"He won't! I'm his daughter, Clint. He may not treat me well but he does stop himself. But he will kill you Clint! He will put a bullet between your eyes."

Clint stood angrily, shoving his hand through his shaved head and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Clint I will die if he kills you. I can't do it, don't make me."

Clint shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Fine, I will leave. But you need to leave too. In three days meet me at that little inn just outside of Boulder the one with the funny tree in front. If you don't meet me I will come find you, Millie, I swear to God if you're not there…"

Millie stared at him for a moment before nodding, biting her lip as she watched him toss some clothes and knick knacks into his bag and coming to kneel in front of her.

"Millie, I love you and I will see you in three days."

She nodded wiping tears and blood from her face. "I promise. Nothing will keep me from meeting you again." She answered him honestly, knowing nothing would keep her from him.

She held onto this thought, even as she collapsed to the floor.

.::.

The steady beeping of the hospital machines woke Millie. The moment her eyes fluttered open her body was assaulted with pain. She couldn't move anything and even just opening her eyes made her want to die. Words tried to form in her mouth but her tongue got in the way. Her eyes closed and she focused on slowly filling her lungs with air.

"Millie, dear?" a soft woman's voice floated to her.

Millie opened her eyes again.

"Hi there sweetheart, do you know where you are?" the kind voice asked her. Millie's eyes focused and she saw a middle aged woman with a pudgy face and plain brown eyes the same color as her mousy hair.

Millie shook her head slightly.

The woman frowned and took Millie's hand. If she had been more alert and in less pain she would have jerked away, she didn't like being touched-at least by someone who wasn't Clint. She loved being touched by Clint.

"You had an accident. Your father said you fell from the trapeze during practice. You cracked two ribs and broke your wrist. The doctors had to surgically repair your spleen as well. What are you feeling now?"

"Fuzzy," she replied softly. Trying to talk through the haze of morphine was difficult, but she knew the pain she felt was only a fraction of what it could be.

"That will pass darling. Now I'm going to speak with the doctor now."

She stood up and walked from the room. Millie watched her approach a man in surgical scrubs and a long white coat, and her father. They were speaking in hushed tones but the hospital was quiet and she could hear every word they spoke.

"...sir were you aware your daughter was pregnant?"

Trick Shot feigned ignorance and shock. He was a trained performer and he knew how to play the role of doting father. "My God…no didn't have any idea."

The doctor sighed. "She was only two months along or so. I don't think I have to tell you that she lost the baby. I don't think there will be any permanent physical damage to her body but the emotional toll of what's happening will be severe. Is there anyone you would like us to call?"

A stab of pain sliced through Millie's heart. Slowly she moved her hand to her belly, the cast sitting heavily over her skin. It was gone. A small sob escaped her lips but she held in the tears. Even though it was a spectacular mistake and would have undoubtedly made her life harder—she wanted her baby. She wanted to take care of it and have Clint by her side.

And now she was alone.

Trick Shot's voice sliced through her heart ache. "No. I'm sure I know who the father was…he was nothing good. He won't be in her life, he doesn't need to know." Trick Shot rubbed his forehead as if he was in pain. "If you'll excuse me, I would like to see my daughter."

He walked towards her room and the doctor shot her a worried glance. The middle aged woman was with him and they looked at each other.

Before Trick Shot got any closer she heard the words they whispered. "You and I both know those injuries were not consistent with a fall. Someone repeatedly hit her until she had a miscarriage."

"I know." The doctor replied softly. "I've filed a report."

Trick Shot rested his hip on her bed, reaching forward and taking the hand that wasn't in a cast. "How are you feeling baby?"

Millie stared ahead, a surge of anger silencing the pain for a moment.

"How do you think I feel, father?" she snapped. The moment the words left her lips she wanted to pull them back.

His eyes flashed with repressed anger and his fingers tightened on her wrist. He couldn't hit her here. He wouldn't dare.

"Listen girl," he said harshly as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I know you think you've won because you sent that boy away." He sneered at her. "Did you really think it would be that simple? That I wouldn't find him?"

Cold dread sliced through Millie's broken body.

Trick Shot's hands slid down her arm and clasped her hand, sliding something cold and wet into her palm. She looked down past his leering smile and gasped. In the palm of her hand was a bloody bullet. It was misshapen from when it had pierced something.

"Put this right between his eyes, Millie. He's dead and gone and it's your fault. You're such a whore, Millie. If you had just been a good girl he would be alive now." He forcibly curled her fingers around the bullet and stood, striding from the room.

Millie didn't cry. She was passed crying. Her entire body was numb from shock: there was no outer reaction except for her fingers clamping down around the cold steel.

Clint was dead.

Millie was completely alone in the world.

That September day was the last time Millie felt anything.

Trick Shot stepped from the room and pulled Barney close, shoving a piece of newspaper into his hand. "You know what to do?" he asked tightly.

Barney nodded as he slid the paper into his pocket. "Count on me sir."

And then he was gone.

.::.

Clint stomped his feet to circulate some warmth into his frozen limbs, wriggling his toes a little in his combat boots. He had been standing outside the inn for an hour. He hadn't told Millie what time to meet him, but he would stand here all night if he had to.

He'd spent the past three days thinking about her and him and how everything was going to come together. Clint had never lied. He wanted to start a life with Millie. It was going to be hard but he wanted it.

"Clint!"

He turned to see Barney coming around the corner, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a woolen hat over his ears.

"Barney?" he got a bit nervous, crossing his arms. His bow was strapped to his back under his bulky sweatshirt, but would he have time to grab it? Surely he wouldn't need to. Barney was his brother and despite everything that had happened between them, they were still brothers. That had to mean more than anything else, right?

"Clint." He said again, softly. "I don't really know how…what I mean to say is…Millie told me she was supposed to meet you." He said softly.

"What's going on, Barney?" Clint asked, his breath hitching in his throat.

Barney scuffed his shoe against the sidewalk. After a pause he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled piece of newspaper. "I think this will be easier…" he said softly as he handed the paper to Clint.

He could barely read the words in the dim street lights but the headline popped out vivid and angry:

'Teen Girl Dies in Circus Accident'

Clint stopped breathing.

'Young Amelia Smith, daughter of famous Circus performer Trick Shot, tragically died Wednesday Evening. Practicing for an upcoming performance Amelia, Mocking Bird as she was known to her fans, slipped and fell from the tops of the trapeze. She was rushed to the hospital but her injuries proved too severe and she died later that night. Our condolences go out to Amelia's family and friends.'

There was a small picture attached to the story. It was of Millie in her costume, arms flung over her head and a bright smile lit up her face. Clint remembered the day it was taken. He had stood behind the photographer and made faces at her until she couldn't stand she was laughing so hard.

When his eyes refocused he was on his knees and Barney was shaking him and calling out his name. But Clint didn't care. The only thing he could see was the newspaper clipping in his hands: Millie's smiling face and the knowledge that she was gone.

"He did this." Clint hissed out, his teeth grinding against each other in fury.

"Clint it was just a horrible accident."

"Millie never fell!" Clint roared the last words. He'd watched her dip her hands and feet in baby powder, watch the insane amount of concentration on her face as she took the first leap and performed. Millie may have missed the bull's eye once but she had never come close to falling.

"He was very angry." Barney said softly, pushing some of his long dark hair from his eyes. "When she missed he…punished her. He found out about you two and just lost it. He lost control, Clint." Barney said softly.

Clint wanted to put an arrow through his skull. He wanted to die. What was his life now that Millie was dead? "What really happened?" he asked softly, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Barney seemed uncomfortable but he knelt beside Clint. "Right after you left she collapsed. There was internal bleeding or something. They couldn't save her, Clint." Barney said his name softly, sympathetically. He clasped his younger brother's shoulders and squeezed tightly.

"Clint you have to go."

"I want to kill him."

Barney had a sharp intake of breath. "Clint. No." he said softly, emphasizing the words. "You need to run. Live under the radar. Trick Shot may have been the one to kill her but he blames you. He will find you…you need to live Clint."

Clint wasn't sure he knew how to live without Millie. His life fell into two factions: Before Millie and After Millie. Everything before was just a haze of impermanent homes and relationships. Millie teased him, tormented him, talked to him, understood him, and as impossible as it seemed loved him too.

Barney stood and pulled Clint up with him. "Use what you know. Get out of here and never come back. Don't come looking for me or Trick Shot." Barney shoved a gun into Clint's hands. Clint looked down at it and slid it into his pocket before saying anything else.

Barney pulled him into a rough hug and patted his back. "Forget her Clint. Forget everything." He told him, his breath hot against his cheek as he shoved him forward.

Barney grinned a little as he watched his brother's retreating back. He yanked his hat over his head a little more snugly and began walking towards the hospital again. Trick Shot was a genius. Make the two lovers think the other died and it was their fault. The newspaper article was sheer genius and Barney had forced the paper to print it at gun point.

Trick Shot had plans for Barney and Millie. The Circus would be a distant memory. Clint would be a distant memory and Barney could stop living in his younger brother's shadow.

.::.

Seven Years Later

A ceramic plate slid along the granite countertop coming to a perfect stop just under his nose.

Tony pumped his fist.

Steve looked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows. "How do you get it perfect every time?"

Tony leaned against the counter. "Science my dear Captain." He retorted with his usual Tony Stark flippancy.

Clint groaned and shoved the plate of warm waffles away from him.

"Are you not hungry, Eye of the Hawk?" Thor asked in what was apparently an inside voice. Clint covered his ears and his forehead landed with a thump on the counter where the plate had been previous.

"Eye of the Hawk seems to have lost a fight with alcohol." Bruce pointed out in a soft voice, not bothering to look up from his laptop while he munched on some strawberries.

"Fuck all of you." Clint muttered into the countertop.

They laughed at his seriousness and resumed their morning conversations. Steve read the paper and made intelligent comments about current events, Thor ate everything in sight, Tony made sarcastic remarks just to prove his superiority and Bruce hovered in the background with a small nerdy smirk.

Natasha didn't live in Stark tower. She had been gone for two weeks on some mission that involved her curves and devilish smile.

It was September, and though the outside world anticipated winter and possible alien attacks, the Avengers had a night out celebrating. Clint couldn't remember what exactly they had been celebrating but he'd attempted to take on Jack Daniels and failed miserably.

The good Captain America had thought they needed a bonding experience as well as a break-they had been working too hard lately. It was true, but asking Captain America, Thor, the Hulk, Iron Man, and Hawkeye to relax in the same room was like asking Fury to bejewel his eye patch. Ironically, Tony had asked him.

No one asked again.

Steve leaned over the counter and nudged Clint. "You don't usually let go like that. Is everything okay?" his voice was soft and full of concern. Clint could have told him about the dreams, Steve would have understood. But that wasn't any of his business. The dreams were precisely why he didn't let anyone in. Natasha was the only one who might have breached his shell but not even she knew everything. Clint had a suspicion that Phil Coulson knew about the dreams, but he never asked and Clint sure as hell wasn't going to give it up.

"'m fine." He mumbled.

The good Captain backed away, but judging by the way his eyebrows were furrowed together he was far from convinced.

Clint shoved out from the counter and wandered up to the roof. Stark had noticed his rooftop visits and tried to spiffy the roof up: add heat and some cushions or something. But Clint had sent an arrow flying through his computer when he tried and since then Tony had left him alone.

He perched on the corner of the building. Muscles folding into the familiar position he began glancing around the city. He didn't look at one point for too long, just glanced around and took in the events. His toes were curled over the edge and he didn't hold onto the roof at all. If he fell, then he fell.

But he never fell…at least not on purpose.

Why did he drink so much the night before?

Millie. 

She kept filtering into his dreams: flashes of her soft smile and dark eyes. Some of the dreams were incredible. He would dream about the life they could have had. He would just dream of her flitting around a kitchen as she baked cookies, or lounged on the couch watching TV, or kissed him deeply as he held her close.

He remembered every line on her face, even after all this time. The little scrap of newspaper had nearly faded from being touched and read so many times and from being kept in his boot.

Clint tried to forget her. After he left Colorado he bounced around doing petty crime to support himself. It didn't last long though—Phil had found him and recruited him to S.H.I.E.L.D. He made it clear from the beginning that he didn't want to participate in a team: he would work alone and be just fine.

Phil was a dirty rotten liar.

Clint had even tried to find someone new to love. He'd looked everywhere and tried everything. But it always ended up the same: Clint feeling like a complete asshole and his partner asking who Millie was because he kept moaning her name.

Clint was thinking of the last woman he'd tried to sleep with when his comm. went off in his ear.

"There's been an incident, Clint. We need you and your team to come to headquarters ASAP."

.::.

"There's been a string of bank robberies. To say they were intense is an understatement. The death toll is high and the financial loss is catastrophic." Agent Phil Coulson said as he gestured to a large TV behind him.

The Avengers were all crowded into a small windowless room with eyes trained on the screen in front of them. Clint was lounging at the back with his combat boots kicked up onto the table. Steve was watching Phil intently trying to absorb the specifics. Clint usually tuned these meetings out. What was the point? Shoot the bad guys and don't let your team get killed. It was simple and Clint had worked very hard to keep his life simple.

Agent Coulson turned back to the screen and pointed a small remote towards it. A surprisingly high resolution video popped up.

"This is the latest bank robbery security video there are three assailants at all the robberies, all three deadly. We've had our analysts looking at the tapes and they all agreed there was a specific hierarchy."

He turned back to the screen and hit another button, a back of a man appeared on the screen. He had two pistols in his hands and was waving them around. "This is their leader." He looked up and met Clint's eyes, the little wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening.

"We've identified him as Trick Shot."

Clint's heart stopped beating and his veins filled with ice water at the words. He took a deep breath and nodded curtly, trying not to let the overwhelming rage expose itself.

Agent Coulson flicked the remote again. A picture of the second assailant appeared on screen: Barney. He was older and his hair was longer but still the same dark color. He had a long angry scar down the side of his face and walked with a slight limp. The machine gun in his hand took down the first security guard.

"Bernard Barton, long time employee of Trick Shot. Jarvis if you would be so kind as to elaborate?" Phil asked.

"Certainly." The voice came over a loud speaker. Clint thought Jarvis had been restricted to the Iron Man suit and Stark tower. But with Tony around who knew. He probably carried him around in his watch.

"There is no history on Trick Shot. But Bernard Barton has an extensive criminal record. Small time felonies and misdemeanors—he never served any time in prison. According to my research he has the most kills in every robbery."

Clint's heart clenched in his chest when Jarvis' automated words slid past his ears. Barney. Barney was a killer. Barney was a thief.

Barney was his brother.

Clint's fingers dug into his thighs as he fought to keep the cool mask of indifference on his face.

"Wait…Barton? As in…?" Tony trailed off and the other looked to him.

"He's my brother." Clint's voice was hoarse from restrained emotions. Tony was about to ask something else but Steve put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Good ol' Captain America saving the day again.

"Hrm. Right." Jarvis said.

"What about the third assailant?" Bruce asked softly as he pushed his glasses up his nose. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and shoulders hunched. It was such a Bruce pose.

The screen changed again—Phil must have pushed a button—and it focused on the entrance. Three figures dressed in black came through. The first two waved their guns around. They were obviously Barney and Trick Shot.

The third walked through the front door gracefully. Thinner than the other two—clearly female—and she moved with softer movements. Her long hair was pulled into a loose braid and it hung to her waist. Trick Shot turned and said something to her and she reached into her sleeve, body turning as she flung a blade towards the security camera. Moments later it went blank.

"Wait," Tony said as he walked towards the screen. "she turned to the camera. Zoom in." he commanded and Jarvis complied as he usually did.

The woman was mid twenties with a soft face. But her eyes were dark and hard and her cheek bones were angled.

"Jarvis scan her face." Tony said and small pin points appeared on the screen, scanning the young woman's face.

As Clint watched he noticed a small scar on the woman's chin: a scar that looked like she had accepted a dare to jump the widest gap on the train and slipped on the other side, slicing her chin on the metal.

How many girls had that scar?

Suddenly his eyes scanned her face. She was there. Older and thinner but it was her.

Millie. 

His feet dropped to the floor and he stood up, hands on the glossy conference table.

A tone beeped and Jarvis began speaking. "She was recognized, Mr. Stark. Amelia Smith-aged 22 according to her birth certificate. Mother's name was Jennifer Smith and there is no name for father. No criminal record it appears there is a medical record." The screen clicked again to a medical report.

"16 year old female arrived in the emergency room with severe abdominal wounds: internal bleeding, broken wrist, concussion and a broken rib. Patient was taken to surgery to repair abdominal damage. Patient was approximately two months pregnant at the time and suffered a miscarriage from wounds." Jarvis paused a moment. "The doctor's notes state that she was brought in from an apparent training accident but the wounds were more consistent with abuse. He attempted to get child services in but the father took her out before he had time. After this incident she appears to have disappeared until now."

Clint fell to his knees gasping for breath. His head pounded and his lungs couldn't fit properly and his whole body was shaking. Someone tried to speak to him but he couldn't hear it.

Millie was alive.

Trick Shot had beaten her.

Miscarriage.

Clint had abandoned her when she needed him the most and now she was trapped with her father and his homicidal brother. Clint wasn't crying but he damned well should have been.

"Clint." It was Phil's voice that broke through and he was being lifted by someone (probably Steve) and sat into a chair. A cool glass of water was lifted to his lips and he drank the entire thing.

He felt a little better.

Clint had to compartmentalize all of this. Shove all his emotions and past into the back of his mind and think clearly and logically. He took several deep breaths, eyes squinted shut.

"Millie." He said softly with his eyes still closed. He knew they wanted answers.

Clint might be ready to finally give it to him.

"Millie is Trick Shot's daughter." Clint elaborated.

"I take it you two have history?" Bruce said softly.

"She was…my best friend. We grew up in the circus together her father trained us both side by side. We performed together in hundreds of shows." He had never told anyone about Millie. But here he was about to tell five people and Jarvis.

He took a deep breath. They deserved to know the truth.

"I was in love with her. We were in love with each other. Three months before I left we got together and…then she said she was pregnant. As stupid as it sounds I was excited. I was 16, had no money and I knew her father would kill me but I was happy. Then her father found out and…he beat her. Almost to death and threatened to kill me. She came and warned me, told me to leave and that she'd meet me later."

Clint hadn't realized he still had his eyes closed. He didn't care.

"Barney, my brother, met me instead. He told me that Trick Shot had beaten her to death. Then he told me to run. So I did." He pulled out the old newspaper and handed it to Phil.

Phil read it and sighed. "It's fake."

"I gathered that." Clint said sharply, the pain still clawing at his heart.

They all stared at him for a long moment before Steve went all Captain America and said they needed to prepare and led them out, with the exception of Phil.

"This isn't in your record."

"No shit." Clint responded, finally opening his eyes to the harsh glare of the overhead lights. "I wanted to forget. Safe to say I never did forget."

"Clint you know we have to bring them in." Agent Coulson said softly, gingerly patting his shoulder. "Even if she was coerced, it doesn't matter in the eyes of the law."

Clint nodded. He just wanted to see her again. He wanted to send an arrow flying through Trick Shot's skull and punch Barney until he couldn't breathe anymore.

"You need to sit this out, Clint."

Clint knew there was nothing he could do to keep from arguing with Phil. Agent Coulson patted his shoulder a final time and left.

Clint waited until the door clicked shut before standing up. "Jarvis, I need you to find them."

"I do believe Agent Coulson and Director Fury would disapprove of that."

"I don't care Jarvis. I need to find her before they do, before they can arrest her."

Jarvis was silent.

"Jarvis I swear to whatever god computers worship I will put an arrow through your mainframe and not even Tony will know how to put you together again."

Clint could have sworn Jarvis sighed. "They are holding up in a warehouse thirty minutes outside of town." He gave Clint the address.

"I do believe you have spent too much time with Mr. Stark."

.::.

A cockroach scuttled across the concrete floor, bobbing and weaving its way to a new hiding place. It settled under a box labeled 'Documents'.

Millie sighed and sat back a little farther. She was up in the rafters of the old warehouse, her legs almost numb from being crouched for so long. But going down meant she would have to be around Barney and her father.

Her family.

The word curled in her stomach and she fought the wave of hatred that curled up her spine. Millie hated herself, her life, every breath she took disgusted her. Her wrists were lined with little cuts from her failed attempts at ending her life.

The first time Millie tried to kill herself she was 17 and had only been out of the hospital for a few months. Her father had announced that he was going to use their skill set to make money.

Illegally make money, of course. Was there any other way when Barney and Trick Shot were involved? Millie had wanted no part in it. She told them this but they had laughed and told her she had no choice. Where else could she go? Who would accept a broken girl.

So she tried to die. When Trick Shot found her sprawled out in the hotel bathroom he had laughed. Laughed while he bandaged up her arms and told her she couldn't do anything right. They left her for two days while they went to meet some 'future associates' and she had wallowed in her never ending depression.

The second time hadn't been planned, but almost worked.

Barney had accosted her when she turned 19. He wanted what he always wanted and Millie almost gave in just to be rid of him. Then she remembered.

"I want you to be my only." 

Clint's voice was like her saving grace. Before Barney could so much as touch her she had a blade coming up and slicing across his face. Barney stumbled to her father as he tried to staunch the bleeding. Trick Shot had punished her again. Worse than the night where she lost everything.

Millie couldn't remember how she survived that night. But Barney never confronted her again-small victories.

Millie's dark eyes flicked across the wide expanse of the warehouse and found the forms of Barney and Trick Shot. They were planning another robbery while they were in town. Millie told them they shouldn't. The cops would get wise and send someone capable.

Someone like the Avengers.

Trick Shot had sneered at her when she mentioned her fear. He thought he could take them but Millie knew he couldn't.

She listened to them bicker for a few moments before she stood and walked along the rafters until she approached the wide window. Without a noise she pulled herself out and onto the roof. It took her only a few moments to get to the ground in the alley between the buildings.

It was disgusting and filled with piles of garbage and card board boxes but she was free from the garbage inside. She walked along with her hands stuffed in her pockets. Her sweatshirt hung limply on her thin frame and she knew she was too skinny. But after Clint died she couldn't find the energy to do anything but just barely survive.

She wanted to remember Clint. Remember his soft easy going smile and the way his blue grey eyes gave away every emotion he felt, the way he kissed her and how he used to hold her as if she would break. Clint was the only person who loved her for her and the only one who didn't want anything from her. But she gave him everything and now he was dead.

Millie swore and kicked a rock as hard as she could. It zinged off a dumpster and broke some glass. Hearing the shattering of glass made her feel better and she continued along, her eyes glued to her old boots.

Perhaps because she wasn't looking her hearing was so much better. But she heard the slight breathing behind her and the slight creak of leather. Before she registered it she had a blade in her hand and was whirling around.

The man behind her ducked and stumbled back. Millie pressed and swung her boot towards his head. He moved but not enough and her foot grazed his chin. She flipped the blade in her hand and advanced.

But the man was fast too and he was blocking her movements without hitting her. He was holding back and Millie couldn't understand why. He was wearing a dark leather jacket with the hood pulled up over his head. Something bulky sat on his back under the coat but Millie couldn't recognize the shape.

It dawned on her that he was playing with her and she threw a hard right cross. She watched her hand disappear into the shadow of his hood and felt her knuckles slam against his mouth. He stumbled backward and she kneed his belly. He fell to his knees and said something.

"What?" she demanded with her blade still poised to strike him.

"You still smell like lemons."

Millie stared at him and made a slight noise in the back of her throat. "What?" she asked again but with less violence.

"You used to smell like lemons and baby powder but…now it's just lemons."

Unconsciously Millie took a step back and stared at him as he slowly got his footing back and stood at his full height.

"How did you know that?" she asked tentatively, still grasping the blade.

He chuckled. "I used to fall asleep to that smell. I used to wake up to it. Then I dreamed about it." He was being deliberately cryptic and Millie wanted to stab him again.

"Who are you?" she asked slowly.

He reached up and removed his hood. She found herself staring at blue-grey eyes and closely cropped hair. A defined jaw and nose that was a little too big to be conventionally attractive. Millie dropped the blade and stepped back again.

"You know me Millie. I was the one who dared you to jump the gap and you slipped and cut your chin. I was the one who held you hand while that tattoo artist etched a feather into your right hip. I was the one who held you close after your father broke your nose. I was the one who fell asleep with your body warm against mine." He reached out his hand softly and Millie noticed his fingers were trembling. "And I was the one who left you when you needed me most."

"Clint…" she breathed his name aloud for the first time in 7 years. Then her cheek was pressed to his chest and his strong arms were holding her close and he was whispering her name over and over again.

"You…he said you were dead." She mumbled her arms still hanging at her sides.

"They said you were dead, too. Told me to run and never think about you again."

Suddenly she could feel it was him. His body was older and stronger but it was still the same Clint who held her and wanted nothing in return. Her arms encircled him and she sagged against him. He lowered them to the ground without letting go of her.

"Millie I never stopped loving you. I tried to, God I tried. But it was always you. No one could compare to you. Millie, I love you." The words slipped from his lips and a rush like he didn't mean to say them.

Millie tightened her hold. "There was never anyone but you Clint." She whispered against the leather of his jacket. Then Clint was kissing her, hands bunched in her sweatshirt and his soft lips insistent against hers. Millie gave in completely, her lips parting and welcoming him to her like he'd never left.

Even after 7 years they still knew each other's bodies and they had to forcibly stop themselves before there would be no stopping.

"They are inside." She said softly against his cheek and he nodded.

"I'm going to kill them."

Millie shook her head. "You can't." she said softly as she leaned back and took his face in her hands. "I hate him, Clint, but he's still my father. I don't want him to die."

The hands on her hips tightened. "He doesn't deserve to live."

"No he doesn't."

Clint sighed and leaned against her shoulder. "Don't go back in there. S.H.I.E.L.D knows about them. The next robbery will not go according to plan and they will be apprehended. They'll arrest you too Millie."

"I know they will Clint, but I deserve it. I did all those things." She said before stopping. "S.H.I.E.L.D?"

As quickly and simply as Clint could explain it he told her everything. She smiled when he told her they called him Hawkeye and when he told her what he was doing.

"I'm proud of you Clint." She said softly as she laid a chaste kiss against his lips.

A noise sounded from above them and they heard her name being called. "Clint I have to go, no don't say anything. You know I have to. I will make sure we go to the next bank as planned, make sure your team is ready to arrest us." She said softly as she kissed his lips again.

Then she was gone.

.::.

Clint was crouched atop the chandelier hanging over the lobby of the bank. How he got up here was a mystery even to him but it involved a lot of swearing and some undignified scrambling.

His bow was steady in his hands as he watched the people milling around behind him. Thor and Steve were casually talking by the water fountain and Bruce had decided to stay behind. He would come in if they needed him to but having the Hulk come out in a crowd of innocent people…well it could be very bad.

Tony was talking with the cute employee. Clint knew his suit could slide over his body in mere seconds when he wanted it to, but Clint was uneasy about him being exposed.

Something prickled on the back of his neck and he looked up. He saw Millie walk through the door and he gasped a little. He never got over seeing her alive. She was thin and unhealthy but he didn't care. He would spend the rest of his life shoving carbs into her mouth until she was healthy again and he would hold her and kiss her until the pain of the past was just a lingering fragment that meant nothing.

Within moments there was the sharp crack of gunfire and Trick Shot was screaming at every one to get down. Millie moved behind them and crouched a little. Barney pointed his gun at the elderly Bank Manager and demanded to have access to the money. The man disagreed and the look on Barney's face told Clint that he was going to pull the trigger.

But before Clint could pull the string on his bow back Barney was on his knees and grabbing his knee. A silver handled blade protruded from his right knee. He was screaming in pain and Trick Shot looked up at Millie.

"We're done. No one else dies for your greed." Millie shouted at him. Trick Shot turned his pistol at her but Captain America (how on earth did Steve change so fast?) tackled him to the ground and began struggling with him. Iron Man was suddenly in front of Barney and grabbed his throat. Barney opened fire against Iron Man's chest and Clint could feel Tony rolling his eyes at the idiot.

Clint felt himself indulging in some of his pent up hatred and an arrow sliced through the air into Barney's other knee. A shriek filled the lobby and Clint knew he no longer saw Barney as his brother.

"Hawkeye?" Agent Coulson's voice was cool in his ear but he could hear the hint of amusement.

"Oops. Must have slipped." He said innocently.

He heard the snort on the other end of the comm. but no more comments were directed at him.

Clint watched as Agent Coulson coolly walked through the glass doors of the bank and approached Trick Shot, who was currently struggling under Captain America's iron grip.

Over the comm. Hawkeye could hear him telling him he was under arrest and all the other boring legal things that apparently mattered.

But Trick Shot had managed to conceal another small pistol under his body and he shot up and nicked Captain America's arm. Steve fell back in shock and before he could recover Trick Shot had Coulson in his arms and the muzzle of a gun pressed to his forehead.

Clint felt cold dread grab his lungs and he almost leapt off the chandelier to send an arrow flying between Trick Shot's eyes.

But the glint of sunlight against metal caught his eyes and he watched as a blade flicked from Millie's fingers and embedded itself into Trick Shot's spine. The man who once struck so much fear and hate into Clint collapsed and was motionless.

Millie ran to him and held his head in her hands. Clint could see her head bowed and could hear her speak through Coulson's comm..

"I wanted to love you and be perfect for you. I wanted to be your perfect little Mockingbird, but you turned it into hate. You hit me and lied to me. You robbed me of any happiness in my life and for that I hate you." She stood and stepped back. "Die alone Father." She whispered softly and walked away from his limp body.

Two suit clad agents ran forward and grabbed her wrists. She didn't resist as they slapped cuffs on her wrists and searched her for her innumerable weapons. She fell to her knees and hung her head.

Clint leapt from the chandelier tucking into a roll as he landed. He walked to her but was stopped by Thor. "No! Let her go!"

Thor shook his head. "I am sorry friend, you know this must happen." He said softly.

"Coulson! She's innocent!" he called in vain. Coulson shook his head sadly and escorted Millie to the waiting van. A stretcher appeared for Barney.

"What if it was Jane?" Clint asked Thor in a slightly hysterical tone that he would deny every using.

"I would tear every building to its very foundations to bring her back alive. But that isn't the case, friend." Thor said sadly as he pulled Clint away from the door.

.::.

Clint rubbed his tired eyes as he wandered the cold impersonal hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd been stuck in debriefings all afternoon and all he wanted to do was find Millie. Coulson had made him fill out mountains of pointless paperwork to keep him distracted. He had to account for the arrow he embedded into an apprehended fugitive's knee. Apparently 'oops it slipped' is not a good excuse for a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and a member of the Avengers. It is also not advisable to scream 'fuck off' at the top of your lungs when Coulson makes you fill out another arrow requisition form.

Because there are so many more forms where that came from.

Clint scowled at the carpal tunnel forming in his right wrist as he walked to his head quarters lodging. His room at Stark Tower was a thousand times more comfortable but he was tired and was apparently on probations (i.e Coulson gets really pissed off when you tell him to fuck off repeatedly.

He slid his fingers around the metal door knob and stepped into his room. He paused.

Lemon.

Clint looked up and saw Millie sitting on his bed. Her long hair was hanging in damp curls down her back and she was wearing one of Clint's shirts, the one Tony gave him last Christmas—it had a picture of Legolas firing a bow. Tony thought he was so funny.

"I borrowed your shower. I had blood all over me." She said softly as she looked up at him.

Clint slammed the door behind him and crossed the room in three long strides. She was in his arms in seconds and Clint was kissing her dizzy. She ended up under his pressing weight and he was holding her tight as his lips found every inch of her available skin. "Sorry…I was thinking about you in my shower." He said with a smirk on his face.

Millie laughed and ran her fingers through his short hair. "Then I borrowed your shirt."

Clint groaned into her neck and ran his hands along her bare legs. He paused and looked up at her. "I never asked…if you wanted this again or…" he fumbled around but any other words he would have said were silenced by Millie's hard kiss to his lips.

"This is all I've wanted. When I saw you again it was like my heart started beating in my chest again and I could finally breathe. When you kiss me I feel like there is something to live for again."

When Clint found her eyes again he saw there were tears sliding down her cheeks. "Why are you crying?"

She laughed and brushed a thumb along his jaw. "Because I was numb for so long…I can feel again." She said with a wide smile and he kissed her again.

"I was lost without you Millie." Clint admitted as he rolled off of her and pulled her close to him. He was still in his clothes from this afternoon but he didn't care.

"Don't leave me again. I'm really bad at life without you. Just ask Agent Coulson."

Millie bit back a laugh. "Agent Coulson was the one who convinced Director Fury to let me go…as long as I was carefully monitored. I told them there was a certain S.H.I.E.L.D agent who I didn't think would mind."

"I guess I should start my new duty right away?" he teased as he pulled the covers over them and she snuggled into him. She fit perfectly.

"Clint." She said sleepily with closed eyes. "I want you to be my only."

 

The End.


End file.
